


Goner.

by Syntheticpalindromes



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, The Youngblood Chronicles (Music Video)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Youngblood Chronicles, M/M, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntheticpalindromes/pseuds/Syntheticpalindromes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick wanted to.</p><p>But Pete’s hand on his cheek was cold but hot, making his skin tingle not unlike the shocks he’d been put through at the reassimilation exercises. </p><p>He jerked back, growling and pressing the sharp of his hook gently against Pete’s throat, “No.”</p><p>Pete raised his head, baring his throat to Patrick and it felt like a little victory to him.</p><p>“It’s okay ‘Trick.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goner.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is kind of dumb but so are the YBCs to a degree so [throws deuces]

Pete’s eyes went wide and then blinked once, his head thunking back against the hot dirt.

Patrick bared his teeth, shoving at Pete’s shoulders, smashing him into the ground roughly; the tip of his hook grazing against Pete’s exposed neck.

He was almost done.

Almost finished with what he had to do.

What he was meant to do. 

He didn’t make any noise as Pete stopped struggling and coughed up a mouthful of blood onto his chin, splattered against the dark, dusty brown of the dirt caked on them.

“Patrick?”

Patrick blinked some of it out of his eyes.

Then scowled and hissed, inhuman and angry.

He could feel the slice from Pete’s blade into his guts but it was far away as he shoved and shoved Pete back into the earth, “No.”

Pete’s eyelids drooped and he reached a hand up, touching Patrick’s cheek as the people around them cheered and wooped for them to fight.

To tear chunks out of each other.

Patrick wanted to.

But Pete’s hand on his cheek was cold but hot, making his skin tingle not unlike the shocks he’d been put through at the reassimilation exercises. 

He jerked back, growling and pressing the sharp of his hook gently against Pete’s throat, “No.”

Pete raised his head, baring his throat to Patrick and it felt like a little victory to him.

“It’s okay ‘Trick.”

Patrick squinted his golden eyes at Pete as the hook scratched a rough mark on the side of Pete’s jaw, not breaking the skin, but enough to keep him under him without moving; unless he wanted steel inches into his windpipe.

“What are you talking about?”

Patrick bit out the words, because he found that when he was like this, it hurt to get anything cohesive out.

Anything other than snarls and teeth snaps.

Though, he wasn’t quite sure what came before the animosity.

He knew Pete.

He knew that he had to kill Pete.

Just like he killed Joe at Linda Vista. 

His hands tightened on Pete’s shoulders, staring the other man in the eye, willing him to say something to him. Anything. 

(He was stalling but he couldn’t exactly work out why.)

((Even though he knew should just be killing him, that the goal here.))

Pete looked tired though.

Patrick supposed that was from Pete running away from him.

He felt proud at that.

He was something to be feared and to run from. 

That was what he wanted.

Right?

Pete left out a tiny breath beneath him and said slowly, “Are you gonna kill me?”

Patrick sucked in the breath that Pete had exhaled, his back tensing under the dirty material of his shirt and jacket. Layered onto him and sweating against his skin in the desert sun, “Yes.”

Pete smirked a little, “You’re doing a shitty job so far.”

Patrick opened his mouth to say something but what came out was a small laugh.

He snapped his mouth shut again.

What?

Pete’s eyes flickered up and down from Patrick’s face to where the bass turned blade was lodged in him and Patrick could see the pain in his eyes. He didn’t feel anything though, and he assumed it was because of the adrenaline pumping through him. 

Because it felt good to kill people.

When Joe’s pulse stopped fluttering like a little bird, Patrick had felt his own increase. 

It had felt so good.

Until he’d slipped back again and then he just felt horrified at himself, and had allowed himself to cry and mourn for his best friend. Because he’d done that. Squeezed all the air from his lungs till there wasn’t any left.

The hammering that he had felt from the normal Patrick was worse this time. 

With Pete it wasn’t like it was with Joe.

Before it had just been a little flicker of something in his chest was now waves of something else.

Patrick swallowed, looking up at the people around them as they appeared to lose interest. Wandering back to their desert homes. No longer wanting to watch now that Patrick wasn’t hurting Pete.

He wasn’t doing his fucking job.

Pete leaned up all of a sudden, hand coming to grasp the curl of hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck and for a second he thought he was going to headbutt him; but he didn’t.

Pete touched his mouth to Patrick’s, smearing blood on the corner of his lips, making Patrick go stiff.

He touched his tongue to the copper-y liquid and remembered.

Remembered the one time Pete and him had been much younger and been so mad at each other that he had punched Pete and Pete had hit him back and then spent the rest of the night asleep and bloody next to each other in the van. Touching mouths and holding hands because they didn’t even care what the others thought at that point. They were too exhausted.

They’d done so much together.

He pressed back against Pete’s mouth, kissing him once before reaching down and pulling the blade from his side; tossing it across the dusty ground.

It skittered away and then Patrick could feel Pete’s hands pressing against the gash, spilling some blood over his tanned fingers.

“C’mon. It’s cool. It’s good Patrick. Just stand up and we can go.”

He sounded weak and desperate and even with murderous rage and the want to shut him up, Patrick could understand why he sounded like that.

He pressed their mouths together again and again and Pete’s mouth didn’t want to respond so Patrick cut at his arm. Pete winced and yelled at him but Patrick just continued kissing him.

Like the old Patrick and the new Patrick maybe had something in common.

They both definitely wanted to touch Pete like that.

He repositioned himself atop Pete better, hook scratching gently at Pete’s neck again; like an odd mixture of want to love and want to hurt.

He breathed in the smell of Pete’s sweat and terror at the soft skin below his ear and bit at the surrounding skin. Not hard though. He almost wanted to rip his throat out but the hot anger in his belly was slowly dissipating. The effects of the conditioning were wearing off minute by minute. 

This was why he was stalling.

He couldn’t stay this way forever.

And old Patrick was clambering to be let out too hard. Wanting to spend his last moments with his best friend.

He could feel the tugging urge in his rib cage to die with Pete.

If he had to die, he would want to die with him.

He knew that.

“What happened to you?”

Patrick glanced up at Pete and kept quiet for a moment, before saying, “I don’t know. She made me like this.”

Pete swallowed, “The cut on your side is pretty big Patrick. Does it hurt?”

Patrick nodded and pressed his nose against Pete’s cheek, finding it harder to breathe now, “Mm. Probably enough to kill me. Feels good. Glad it was you that killed me. Be over soon.”

Pete nodded and cupped Patrick’s cheek, kissing him one last time, reminding Patrick one last time of who they were.

Before the briefcase and before the ringleader with her red lips and dark intentions.

He could taste on Pete the first time they played music together, when they had been only kids.

Because this is what this was all about.

Music.

She didn’t want music and Patrick’s head flashed with a hot burst of her conditioning. An attempt to turn Patrick into a killer but when he kissed Pete he could almost smell the feeling of the music.

Nothing could begin to describe how good it felt to just be the two of them now.

Pete scrabbled at his back, fingers digging into Patrick’s shoulder blades as he attempted to drag all the remaining humanity out of his best friend.

One last moment of what they shared before Patrick slit open his throat.

And then he went still under Patrick.

The hand from his cheek fell with a thud against the ground and Patrick inhaled shallowly.

His heart jack hammered as he rolled onto the dirt next to the other man, his own hand going out to hold onto Pete’s.

He rubbed his thumb over Pete’s hand, smiling as he bled out.

And he was gone.

~*~

When Pete hugged him afterwards, the white of his clothes almost blinding Patrick, he whispered into his ear, “Missed you man.”

Patrick laughed quietly and wiped at his eye, “I kinda missed me, too.”

Pete just grinned and touched their foreheads together.


End file.
